The Black Rose
The winds of distant times tell the story of a rose that was never the same; a flower as dark as the night itself, a love that was born to never last.
Only once in many years of sleep, under a dim sun and a quiet sky, did the black rose awaken, unique among a thousand forgotten dreams.
It grew in the heat of faceless words, fed by whispers of the wind, bathed in the dew of loving stars and caresses of the moon on silent nights.
They say that its beauty stole time, that its fragrance was a song to love, but it always carried a shadow on its leaves: the promise of its brief brilliance.
The wind, which had adored her in secret, one day blew and left her alone. The lost rose dropped its petals. and his memory dissolved into fleeting air. Thus the legend travels through the centuries a reminder of the rare and the eternal, of a love that blooms in whispers and dies like the rose in the echo of the wind.